What is different is the warm body beside me in the bed.
Every night for the last two weeks, Kit would pick me up and carry me to bed. He’d slowly undress me, making sure his hands didn’t wander without permission. I’d still pretend to be asleep when he pressed his lips to my forehead, whispering sleep well, baby. After, I spend a good hour crying and wishing things could be different, knowing that one day he just isn’t going to show up.
Even knowing I shouldn’t, I roll toward him and settle on his chest, my nose pressed to his shirt.
I saw the pain in his eyes when I told him about hearing the baby’s heartbeat. I denied him that opportunity. I couldn’t tell him it was an honest mistake. I didn’t think a trip to the doctor’s office would be such a big deal until the doppler was pressed to my belly and the sweetest sound I’d ever heard filled the room. I knew in that moment that I messed up.
Hearing that sound was the best couple of seconds of my life, and I knew it would’ve been for him, too.
He told me right after finding out the baby was his that he wanted to be involved. Kit comes from a very close family, and I never doubted for a second what his stance would be. I knew that’s what he would want. It’s why I never wanted to tell him.
Tears swell behind my eyelids, spilling over before I can stop them. Not being able to control my emotions only makes me cry even harder. Before long, I’m shaking with sobs.
His arms flex, holding me a little tighter.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to him.
“Baby,” he says, shifting me until I’m on my back, his body covering mine like the warmest, most comfortable blanket I’ve ever felt.
He doesn’t tell me that it’s okay because we both know it isn’t. What I’m doing isn’t acceptable despite my plans to see it through.
“Please don’t hate me,” I beg, tears streaming down my temples and disappearing into my hairline.
“Never,” he says, his voice low and soft.
I lift, pressing my mouth to his, and he doesn’t pull away like I half expect him to.
The kiss is sweet and soft, reverent even.
It’s everything I need, but not something I feel like I can handle right now.
I press my mouth harder against his, begging for something rougher, needing some form of punishment for hurting him, for taking something so important away from him. But he doesn’t cave to my needs, and maybe that’s exactly how he’s planning to punish me.
“Open,” he whispers against my mouth, his body moving between my legs.
I moan at the warmth of his cock. The man is completely naked, and I’m in nothing but a t-shirt and panties.
“There she is.”
When he pulls back a few inches, I expect him to flip me over, maybe smack my ass in retribution for how I’ve treated him. He simply pushes my shirt up, exposing my tits, before pulling my panties to the side, and sliding right into my slick heat.
“Kit,” I moan at his invasion.
“I’ve got you, baby. Ride it out with me.”
I cling to him, my fingers digging into his back as I wrap my legs around his thighs. He never speeds up, never presses into me as hard as he normally does.
His warm breaths are on my neck, ghosting over my skin like a form of punishment.
“Are you with me, Jules?”
I nod my head, unsure if he’s asking about right this moment or in life, but in this moment all the answers are yes.
He’s so thick inside of me, my body both aching at the fullness, yet somehow begging for more.
“I won’t come like this,” I mutter.
“Yes, you will,” he says.
As if the confidence in his words is enough, my body starts to tingle, that low ache in my belly, praising this man for what he makes me feel.
“You’re mine, baby.”
“Kit.” His name on my lips right now is more of a complaint.
“Indulge me, baby.”
He presses his lips to mine, his hips speeding up just the slightest bit, and fuck if it isn’t enough to make me see stars. He’s so close, his pelvis is stroking over my clit with each press in to me.
“Jules.”
“Yours,” I whisper, my body clamping down on him. “I’m yours.”
“Come for me,” he urges, right before kissing me stupid.
I do because I just have to, and then he follows me over the edge, a low growl against my mouth to mark his own pleasure.
“Good girl,” he whispers, and I preen like a pageant winner.
He’s still inside of me a few minutes later, making no move to go clean up, and I have to chuckle against his neck.
“Comfortable?”
He takes a deep breath, making me wonder if he’s fallen back asleep.
“I’m trying to decide how I’m going to spend my day.”